When Two Worlds Collide
by Cosmic Castaway
Summary: Of all the bars Arthur Morgan could have walked into, he ends up in the one where the Winchesters are looking for Samuel Colt.


Summary: Of all the bars Arthur Morgan could have walked into, he ends up in the one where the Winchesters are looking for Samuel Colt.

Notes: I never thought I'd actually write a SPN fic even though I've followed the series for so long now I can't even remember when I started watching. But then I got into RDR2 and then some how I could not stop thinking, wouldn't it be great if Dean ran into Arthur Morgan….being the fact Dean was completely fanboying anyways being back in the wild west, so why not have him meet my new favorite outlaw. If you never played the game, well that sucks it's a wonderful outstanding best game not just for the year but generations to come.

I will say Arthur is a little grumpy for some reason. Will just say him and Dutch had an ugly fight or something, so he's just pissy all get out. But hey that's okay!

Timeline: Just know I'm messing with it and just imagine Arthur running around the same time in his prime! Come on, work with me that's how these things work dammit! If there any mistakes, (waves hand in front of you) these are not the mistakes you are looking for. Yeah I did it I Obi-Wan you. If you enjoy this stupid little story let me know, if not lol It doesn't matter I enjoyed the hella out of writing this thing!

2 Jan 19: Fixed some stupid mistakes that apparently I can't seem to see when I'm going through my work. I need to do a better job at this (palm to face)

When Two Worlds Collide:

"Oh, it's like gasoline."

"Sarsaparilla aint half bad."

"Get outta the damn way!" A rough and throaty voice came from outside making Dean and Sam turn around to see what kind of commotion was coming their way. As the doors swung open a man stepped in. Dean and Sam looked the man up and down and both knew this man was fully capable of taking care of himself. They both had been in enough fights in their lifetime to know how to size somebody instantly by just looking at them. Call it survival instinct or just plan part of their job, it was what made them out standing in their field of work.

The man's eyes glanced around the saloon making sure there was no real threat and proceeded to make his way to the bar. He came up to stand only few feet from Dean and Sam and without having to say a word made a simple gesture, which the bartender understanding this secrete language of the west and grabbed a shot glass and poured the gasoline whiskey in front of him. The man paid no attention to Dean and Sam or it seemed as they continued to stare at him. He grabbed the shot, downed it and looked up to see two people staring at him.

"Is there a reason you two are staring at me. Didn't your momma tell you it's not polite, or you got no momma? It would explain your rudeness"

Arthur Morgan had seen the two pair standing at the bar and had sized them up before he made his way to the bar. 'They looked completely utterly out of place in the small town, shit, where the hell was he again, bumfuck Idaho.'

"No, no…just," Dean staring at the man and stumbling over his words, "you're a gunslinger."

Sam couldn't resist shutting his eyes. Trying to count to ten in his head to try and not make a face or maybe even say something out loud, knowing his brother was completely utterly fanboying to a complete and utter stranger. A stranger that looked very short tempered and quick on the draw. He did not need the trouble of having Dean shot by some happy trigger gunslinger, all because Dean was excited to be living out his childhood dream. There were days Sam felt he knew his brother better then Dean knew himself, then other times well, other times he wasn't so certain. When he fanboyed he might as well be a complete different person, Sam just didn't understand it.

"You like to state the obvious, do I know you? Why you look familiar, I threaten you before boy? You don't owe us money, do you?"

"Boy," Dean coughed. Why was this guy calling him a boy like he was so much younger then he was? Then again back then if you were in your thirties you were practically a senior citizen for the mortality rate was exponentially higher back then. Dean tried to think of something smart, quick whited something that would gain the respect of this man but also let him know he should not be messed with as well. Problem was the cowboy in front of him was a little bit faster on the draw.

"You sure are dressed pretty for a fella. You not one of those New Yorkers pretending to be a cowboy are ya?" Arthur looking Dean Winchester up and down. Making him feel as big as an inch worm at the moment, Sam lowing his head so his hat hid the smile that was starting to form across his face. To watch his brother completely be beaten at his own game and to have somebody be faster on the draw not on weapons but tongue too. Then again, they were all the way back in the 1800's where every man had to puff himself up to make sure nobody took advantage of him. If you didn't act tough then the world was only going to spit you back out and not give a damn about who you were and where you came from. Sam reflected a little, then again nothing really has changed all that much from this time to their time.

Arthur continued, "Because you are, you ain't going to stand a chance in them clothes. If the O'Driscolls don't pick you boys up, the mountain men will. It sure is hell ain't pretty what they like to do to men." Motioning for another glass of whiskey the bartender came up poured his liquor and quickly moved away from the three, as Arthur continued to speak. "but hey can't say I didn't warn yeah."

Dean had finally had enough, "Listen here you reject Toy Story Woody, I'm not afraid of you. **We** are not afraid of you." Motioning to his brother. "Now why don't you stop talking to us before I make you stop talking to us."

Arthur was just putting the tip of the glass up to his lips when he stopped and looked at Dean.

For a few seconds you could cut the air with a knife. As both men sized each other up, which one was going to break which one was going to start off a chain reaction within the tiny space. It wasn't like there was a ton of room for movement in the bar. Sam truly had no idea which way it was going to go. He watched intently ready to spring into action to back his brother up if needed. The bartender was watching every move, ever inhale. He had been here before, seen males get into a pissing contest with words and before everyone knew it, they were pulling guns and shooting up the place. They just had a shooting last week. He just hoped they would take things outside and not mess up the place. It took countless hours to get the place back up to par.

Dean watched as the man studied him. Watching to make sure his hand didn't go for his gun. He knew there was one way to talk to these guys either show you had balls as well or keep your mouth shut. Dean didn't know how to do the second one, so he did what always came natural and tried to make sure this man knew he was also fully capable of handling himself if need be.

Then the man's face broke finally into a genuine smile and spoke "Your funny. I like you. Kind of remind me of me when I was younger…So I won't kill you….for now. Barkeep, give these fellas another round of drinks!"

The bartender tried not to look up to the heavens to thank the Lord that everything smoothed over. He tried to calm his hand even though it was shaking and walked up to the one who was taller and had been quiet most of the time.

"More sarsaparilla Sir?"

Sam practically winched when the bartender said it out loud. 'Thanks Dean, you asshole.' Waving his hand, "No I'm good."

"Why you drinkin a lady drink?" The man asking Sam. Shrugging it off the man tipped the shot glass back, made a hacking sound as his body took in the harsh liquor. "Well boys, I'm leaving. Catch you around town." Giving a nod, he gave Dean a pat on the shoulder and walked out. The brothers turned and watched as the man left. They could see him through the window as he got on his horse and leave. Both turned back to the bartender who was shaking his head.

"You're damn lucky son." The bartender looking at Dean Winchester.

"Why's that?" Asking, puzzled by such a statement.

"That was Arthur Morgan. He runs with the van der Linde gang. One of the finest gunslinger around, and wanted by the law, $5000 last time I heard" wiping down the bar he looked at Dean, "I've seen him kill men for less. He must have liked you to let you live."

Dean turned back to his brother and smiled at Sam, looking as though he achieved the impossible. "I did it Sammy. I went toe to toe with a gunslinger and won!"

Sam shook his head in shock. Not understanding how his brother could alter the truth so quickly when the sequence of events just happened moments ago! Guess that's what made his brother a unique person and why he loved him for it. Smiling he nodded, "Okay Dean, you won."

Both went back to their drink until Darla's voice pierced the air with a scream from upstairs.

The End


End file.
